


You're My Only Sun

by rukataliamarshmallow



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, M/M, Mentions of alcohol, i love forcing myself to cry by imagining said things, inspired by BTS' HYYH music videos and other material, no comfort tho, this is one of this things, this one is inspired by run AHAHAHA, unhealthy coping mechanisms implied
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27820525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rukataliamarshmallow/pseuds/rukataliamarshmallow
Summary: Kuroo has hit rock bottom. Then he meets Kenma.I can’t stopI can’t help itThis is all I can do anywayAll I know is how to love youIt’s okay to fallIt’s okay to get hurtI’m alright, even if I can’t have youPitiful destiny, point your finger at meI’m chasing butterflies, so lost in dreamsI follow your tracesShow me the way, please stop meLet me breathe
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Kudos: 5





	You're My Only Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written in a long time, so I hope this is angsty enough, and I hope this makes sense, oof. I really love BTS' Hwa Yeon Yeon Hwa and Young Forever album, so I might make more fanfics inspired by songs that make me especially sad. Hope you enjoy!

What went wrong?

Honestly, Kuroo could list a lot of things, in fact, he could probably count them off his fingers and his toes but in the end, they would all point to one thing: that Himari didn’t love him anymore.

_ (Actually more like ‘love’. The more he mulled over this relationship, the more he wondered why he even involved himself in it in the first place.) _

Maybe Kuroo has run out of love for Himari as well but until he confirms it, he’ll still miss the routine and stability that came with a relationship. He doesn’t want to list down the things he misses about this relationship because he knows that if he does, he’ll just end up with a cloudy mind and pitiful eyes. Emotions were oh so difficult to understand, whether they were his own or not.

_ (Or maybe he never really loved her in the first place, under the sakura blossoms and sweet, saccharine words tumbling from her petal pink lips, he just liked the control he had in that moment- if he wanted to he could crush her like autumn leaves on a pavement. Kuroo reckons that at least, in that picturesque moment, just felt like the right thing to do- the correct course of action to take. Wouldn't it be better to just play along and be showered with love for just a few months, anyway?) _

So he moves on: to the next girl, guy, job, phase in life, whatever. Bottles of booze and smashed silverware were becoming a common item in Kuroo’s cold house. He’s stopped counting how many times he’s accidentally smashed his fingers on shards of glass and clay and the number of times he’s woken up with the other half of his bed feeling cold and empty. He plans on switching out his current bed for a smaller one soon, he can’t stand how empty it feels whenever he laid his tired existence on it. Besides, big beds tend to swallow lonely people, and the smoke from his neighbour’s daily cigarette was already clouding his lungs.

_ (Lately these feelings of suffocation felt more weighted and concentrated around his chest. Almost like a physical feeling of asphyxiation that crushed his ribs; most days he felt weightless and floaty, like a red balloon on a string spiralling toward the open sky. Sometimes, which was really most times, breathing became a tedious chore. He had half a mind to just _

_ stop.) _

He stopped stalking Himari on social media- seeing how she’d already seemed to have found a new potential lover- and began his career as a part-time delinquent who jumps between odd jobs now and then. Maybe that’s why he begins to hang around Kenma; a man with stinging words and a soft face who works at the vintage shop down the street: because he brings a certain constant to his chaotic life. He knows that Kenma will always be there if he turns around and will stay there when he looks away. He’s not sure if it was purely out of desperation for love or if he truly loved Kenma, but Kuroo knows that Kenma makes his life a little less dim.

_ (No subtext to add here; for once Kuroo’s subconscious is calm. The heftiness in his chest is still there though, but this feels like a thought to feed for another day.) _

Even though the two haven’t exactly established any romantic feelings for each other, Kuroo likes to think that someday, they might. From their hugs that sometimes last a little too long for them to be platonic to their obvious fleeting glances reserved only for each other, Kuroo is sure that one day, they’ll find love in each other. It’s to be expected, they’re a good match; two broken souls with their foul mouths as their walls and guarded looks as their armour to protect their fragile and bandaged hearts.

_ (Initiative.) _

So he doesn’t hesitate when he sees Kenma lazing around on the couch in the staff lounge in that shop and pulls him up to his feet, surrounded by boxes of unwashed vintage clothes and records that needed to be dusted. Of course, this was met with a lot of swearing and protests but that didn’t stop Kuroo from planting a kiss on the other’s surprisingly soft but dry lips. He’s surprised by the way Kenma presses his lips just as hard and soon, they find themselves sprawled on the couch, their hands fervently roaming each other’s skin and their eyes clouded with a certain haziness that only almost-lovers could explain.

_ (Kuroo is certain that he wants it this time. He sees Kenma’s ever so expressive amber eyes, the way his upper lip twitches when an annoying customer persters him for a discount, his nimble fingers fiddling with racks of clothes, his sarcastic arched eyebrow that chastises his taste in music- everything; and Kuroo knows, understands, or realises? Whatever word it should be, Kuroo wants this.) _

“Kenma,” Kuroo sighs as he rests his dizzy forehead against the other’s. The buzzing in his head intensifies when he feels the other’s warm breath tickles the column of his neck. He finds himself drunk with joy when Kenma allows him to roam his neck with his mouth, sucking and nibbling on Kenma’s ivory flesh.

He doesn’t question Kenma when he- the normally snarky and sarcastic man- allows himself to be whisked away in Kuroo’s steady arms into the other room to press him up against the closed door, nor does he question Kenma’s hesitant lips on his and his unsure fingers trailing the sides of Kuroo’s waist. But when he feels Kenma’s body stiffen unsurely against Kuroo’s, the younger forces himself to stop and pull away from Kenma.

“Can I ask you something?” Kuroo asks in his raspy voice.

“Go ahead,” Kenma mutters in an equally raspy voice.

“What are we?”

Kuroo allows the question to hang in the air and idles the seconds by, by roaming over the soft features of Kenma’s flushed face. He takes in the soft curves of Kenma’s cheeks, the way his lips press together in thought and how his discerning eyes are filled with a mixture of expressions that Kuroo can’t pinpoint.

_ (Why is he hesitating? This feels like hell. The weight on his chest is crushing.) _

“We’re not friends, but we’re not lovers either,” is the final conclusion Kenma draws before fitting his lips over Kuroo’s once again.

This time, Kuroo’s advances are much more aggressive; every kiss, every lick, every bite. He just wants to take in as much as Kenma as he can, to make up for the unfilled hole in his heart and to make up for all the times he spent foolishly thinking that they could learn to love again in each other’s arms. So Kuroo gulps down every kiss, every touch, every sound that comes from Kenma and tries to mask this person’s ( _ his person’s) _ empty actions with a veil of romance, trying to convince himself that Kenma and him are in love. Maybe it’s to mask the sounds of his own heart being ripped apart, or maybe it’s because he wants to distract himself from the ache he feels in his chest or maybe it’s both. Whatever. Emotions were really fucking complicated anyway.

_ (Kuroo knows that the closest thing he has to Kenma loving him was this tryst. He takes it with willing hands and an iron grip, he wears his heart around his neck, exposed and suicidal. They make out, fuck, and sometimes when Kenma is softened with alcohol and Kuroo is overflowing with inebriated boldness, they hold hands. Kuroo never bought the smaller bed he wanted; he lets himself suffocate under Kenma’s gaze, polluted with Kuroo’s blind love. Kuroo’s imagination is dangerous. He hopes and despairs of the chances that this will all turn out okay, that maybe Kenma will start to fall for Kuroo just as hard as Kuroo fell for him; but he understands, he knows that…  _

_ Kuroo always thought that he and Kenma were two sides of the same coin: sad and pathetic individuals who didn’t really know how to make use of their gift of life productively. He thought they were something like partners- Kuroo with his penchant for mischief and Kenma with his willingness to join. As he lays there, staring up at his ceiling, waiting for Kenma to knock on his door, all he can think about is how much he wants to hold Kenma, and how much he needs Kenma to just be his.  _

_ So this is Love.  _

_ What shitshow.) _


End file.
